In it, to win it
by Spyder1070
Summary: Tired of the constant "fat jokes" Russel and Murdoc finally decide to settle the argument, once and for all. With 2Ds help of course. ONE SHOT. NEW STORY.


Russel and Murdoc are in the lobby, arguing back and forth about something Murdoc had said to 2D about him in the kitchen. The Keyboardist stands close by, looking back and forth between the two of them. Not quite sure if he should say some thing to help.

"I don' know how many times I gotta say it man? I've got a wheat allergy, yo dig"? Russel snarls, jabbing a huge meaty finger in the Bassists face. Murdoc rolls his eyes and waves the Drummer off.

"Yeah, yeah. Just have another chicken wing and calm down". He scoffs.

"Maaaaan. Yo is askin' ta have yo head bust open". Russel fumes, nearly shaking with rage. Murdoc sniggers in response and begins walking away, towards the car park door. 2D clears his throat as Murdoc opens the corridor door, and finally decides to speak up.

"Why doncha do wot they did in the old days"? He asks. Murdoc pauses, and the large American snaps his head round to look at the younger man. 2D can feel the Drummers vacant eyes burrowing through him, and flinches at the sensation. Murdoc half turns back to face him, crossing his ankles and resting his weight on the door handle.

"The Einstein has spoken". He chuckles sarcastically. 2D furrows his brow and looks over to him, wringing his hands nervously and not sure he really should of said anything at all now. But feeling that he'd already begun. He thinks carefully and tries to explain what he'd meant.

"Ya know? When they shot at each other and that"? He scratches at his upper arm and waits to see if either man had understood him. Murdoc blinks at him, uncrossing his ankles and standing more upright. A little shocked at what the Keyboardist was suggesting., but not completely against the idea.

"Actually....? D, break out the puncture repair kit. Lard arse is gunna need it". He finally chuckles, visualizing himself dressed like a cowboy, standing over Russel in some gunfight scenario in an old Western style movie. He quietly laughs to himself, then slits his eyes in Russels direction. The Drummer catches the look Murdoc is giving him, and grinds his teeth. Then turns his head back to 2D and snorts at him like an angry bull. 2D fidgets uncomfortably, realizing he'd still not made himself perfectly clear.

"No. I mean when they used to walk ten paces from one another. Then turned and fired..... Wot's that thing called again"? He squints one eye hole closed and scratches his chin, trying to remember the word.

"A duel". Murdoc answers. "I'm still liking the idea". He adds with a shrug, making a gun with his fingers, and aiming it the larger man. 2D looks back at them both nodding and smiling. Then steps forwards feeling a little more confident that he's on the right track.

"Yeah. But wif golf balls". Russel and Murdoc both balk and look sharply back at him. Neither one now having any clue at all what 2D had really been suggesting. 2D sees they way they're looking at him again, and steps back. Now even more confused and nervous than before.

"Huh"? They both ask him, equally confused. 2D begins fidgeting again and tries to explain a little further.

"I mean like a game of golf. Whoever wins the game, well they win the argument.... or sumfink"? He swallows hard and almost seems to shrink in height. As if he's trying to melt into the floor and get away from them both. Murdoc eyes him steadily for a moment, but doesn't move or say anything. Russel pulls himself up to full height, and seems to be thinking about the idea. After a few tense moments, both men nod approvingly towards 2D. Liking the idea he'd come up with quite a bit.

"Eh. I'm up for it. What about you fat stuff? You prepared to lose"? Murdoc answers first. Russel once again turns and glares at the old man, growling menacingly.

"Jus' one mo' insult man..." he snarls, shaking a meaty fist at him. Murdoc shrugs and smacks his lips.

"Ok... Moby". He adds, folding his arms over his chest in complete defiance. A few seconds later, the corridor door is slammed open. As Murdocs body sails through the air in a graceful arc, towards the door at the other end. He hits the floor and skids a short distance across it, coming to a full stop just before the door. Ending up as a mangled and crumpled heap. "Arrrrrse". He drawls softly.

The next day. Murdoc and Russel are down at the local golf course. 2D is with them, at the Bassists insistence, playing as caddy for the old man. The Keyboardist stands by as Murdoc selects a club, a little more interested in the scenery around him, than the game itself. Finding a club he likes, the Bassist looks up at 2D and sees the zoned out expression. He rolls his eyes and walks back to the tee off, placing his ball and looking far up the fairway, to the green. He stands beside the ball and settles his feet, taking a quick practice swing. But doesn't feel all that comfortable, so he stand upright again and checks the wind direction. Still not happy, he walks back over to his golf cart, and reaches down inside it, pulling out a bottle of Scotch he'd brought with him. Russel grunts at him impatiently and shoots him a frustrated look. But the Bassist flips him off and elbows 2D out of the way again, heading back to his ball.

"You in a hurry to loose or summink"? He mutters, settling his feet again and taking another practice swing. Still bored, 2D begins rocking gently back and forth on the balls of his feet. Still looking about at the scenery silently. In the back of his mind, the old man can feel him and tenses up. He takes a deep breath and adjusts his grip. Trying to calm down and ignore the sensation creeping up his spine.

"C'mon man. Whacha waitin' fo'"? Russel growls impatiently, almost seeming to strangle his club in frustration at the old mans stalling. Murdoc cringes and spins round on him.

"Shuddup"! He snarls back at him, then rolls his shoulders and faces the ball again. He tries again, but the sensation of 2D watching him returns instantly. Giving up, he storms back over to the young man, pointing the head of his club at him.

"You"! He snaps. 2D looks about him confused, before finally pointing to himself. "Yeah. Fuck off! Ya bother me". He adds with a hiss, grabbing the Scotch bottle again and taking another swig. 2D shrugs at him and looks around.

"Where do ya want me ta stand then Muds"? He asks, scratching at his arm nervously. Murdoc sighs and looks at towards the green.

"Piss off up there, and take the flag from the hole. Then stand well back". He growls in response. 2D sighs heavily and heads off up the fair way. Russel rolls his eyes and watches Murdoc sit down in the cart, drinking. He folds his huge arms over his chest and taps his sneakered foot impatiently. "And you can stop yer bitchin' as well". Murdoc adds, taking another swig from the bottle. Russel shoots him an evil look, and unfolds his arms again.

"I didn' say nuthin'". He growls.

"You... didn't have to". Murdoc softly drawls back. Putting the lid back on his bottle and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Much later in the game. Murdoc and Russel are pretty much level pegging in score, and the Bassists confidence is riding high. Sure of a win. He decides to press the point with the Drummer, in hope of throwing him off his game.

"Just two holes to go, and yer arse is mine". He chuckles, as Russel grabs a golf club from his bag and approaches his ball. Familiar with the Bassists tactics, and determined not to let the old man phase him and win that way, he relaxes into his shot.

"Hate ta burst ya bubble, old man. But I don' swing dat way. A'ight". He quips sarcastically back. Catching the gay slur Russel had just suggested. Murdoc slits his eyes at the back of the large Americans head, and grumbles softly to himself. Russel smiles knowing he'd hit the mark with the older man, and takes his swing.

They reach the last hole and at Murdocs insistence, tally up the score. The Bassist flips Russel off and licks his lips in early triumph.

"Yer outta here. Done. Adios and finitoooh". He grins. "The only way you could possibly win now, is to get a hole in one". He sneers at him and almost dances as the large man sets up his last ball. Cracking the bones in his neck, Russel looks down at the ball and lines up his shot. Determined not to give Murdoc the game by not even trying. Taking a moment to think about his shot, he pulls back his arms, and swings down at the ball, striking it as hard as he can up towards the final hole.

2D stands by on the green, flag in hand and waiting for the two men to finish the game. He looks up and sees a bird flying high over head. Smiling absently to himself, he watches it's flight path with his sunken eight-ball eyes. A few seconds later, he is struck in the side of the head with a golf ball. It bounces off, shoots across the green and plops straight into the hole. Startled, 2D looks all about himself confused. Not seeing the ball, or knowing that was what it was that had just hit him.

Back at the tee. Murdoc lowers his binoculars and grinds his teeth, as Russel grins like a Cheshire cat at him.

"That shot don't count". He growls at the large man. Russel slowly shakes his head and chuckles at Murdocs inability to accept defeat.

"Oh yes it does". Murdoc storms over to his golf cart, and tosses the binoculars inside, fuming.

"No it doesn't! I call interference from a Dullard, and his thick head". He snaps back, clenching his fists tightly. Russel begins to grow frustrated by the Bassists determination not to give the game to him. Or to admit it was entirely his fault in the first place.

"Who jus' 'appened ta be dere, coz yo ass sent him in da first place". He points out, picking up his bag and walking over to his own cart.

"Oi you! Only because he distracts me when I play. And it still doesn't count"! Murdoc snarls back viciously. Russel finally looses his temper and tosses down his bag, turning on the Bassist.

"Yes it does! Coz yo made his cracker ass a natural hazard"! He snaps back, equally as vicious.

"Oh fer fucks sake! This is D we're talkin' about. Nuthin natural about him"! Murdoc screeches, with spittle flying in all directions and the veins near bursting from his neck. Russel massages his temple and finally gives in.

"Fine! I'll take da shot again. But dat first one don' count, a'ight"? Murdoc instantly calms down and smiles, reaching inside his golf cart for the binoculars again and walking back to the infuriated Drummer.

"Fine by me". He smiles pleasantly.

2D is suddenly struck in the head by another golf ball. He once again spins round looking for the projectile, but fails to see it. It bounces off and once again rolls straight into the hole. In the mean time, convinced it must be raining, 2D is holding out his hand and searching the sky for rain clouds. He hears a roar behind him and turns around. Seeing a golf cart speeding towards him, he squints at it for a better look. Seeing Murdoc at the wheel waving a club at him, he assumes the old man has won the game and smiles, waving back at him. But the old man doesn't slow the cart down, and the closer he gets, the angrier he begins to sound to the Keyboardist. 2D grows more and more nervous, as the cart draws closer to him. It finally becomes quite plain Murdoc is furious, and tossing the flag aside, 2D begins backing away.

"When I git my hands on you, ya cheatin' smurf...."! Murdoc roars, tearing up the fairway at him. 2D suddenly takes off at a sprint, as the golf cart launches onto the green close behind him. Racing as fast as he can to get away, with the old man in hot pursuit, he scrambles through the sand traps and past the other startled golfers.

Back at the tee. Russel whistles happily as he packs his clubs back in his cart, before climbing in himself.

"And dey say ligh'nin' don' strike twice".


End file.
